


i know who i want to take me home

by lecornergirl



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, but they're teachers, climate march, forbidden relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-31 17:03:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20797745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecornergirl/pseuds/lecornergirl
Summary: When Clarke takes the job at Arcadia High School, Principal Kane’s rule about no relationships between teachers doesn’t bother her. She doesn’t expect it will ever apply to her.Her blissful ignorance lasts one whole school year, and then she comes in for the staff meeting before her second year and sees a new face. An unfortunately attractive new face.





	i know who i want to take me home

**Author's Note:**

> title from closing time by semisonic bc that's what was playing on my spotify playlist towards the end of this fic tbh

When Clarke takes the job at Arcadia High School, Principal Kane’s rule about no relationships between teachers doesn’t bother her. She doesn’t expect it will ever apply to her. 

Her blissful ignorance lasts one whole school year, and then she comes in for the staff meeting before her second year and sees a new face. An unfortunately attractive new face.

Even more unfortunate, the face belongs to Bellamy, and as soon as she talks to him once she quickly realises he’s the closest thing she’s going to get to an ally in this school. Turns out it’s very easy to become friends when you’re the only two people in your workplace who are under the age of 47 and who actively care about the future of your students.

It starts on the first Friday of the school year, when Clarke walks past Bellamy’s classroom, peeks in to check how he’s doing, and stops in her tracks when she sees him apparently trying to merge his forehead with his desk. 

“Settling in okay?” she asks, trying not to laugh. He makes a noise that sounds like a groan, but a lot of it is lost in the pile of papers on his desk, so Clarke can’t be sure. The laugh she was trying to suppress makes its way out. 

Bellamy lifts his head and throws a baleful look in her direction. “What even is this town?”

“Arcadia? It’s… an experience,” Clarke says, stalling for time. 

“That sounds about right,” Bellamy mutters.

“I take it you’re not from around here,” Clarke says. She tries not to sound too interested, but Bellamy is the most interesting thing to happen to Arcadia for a good while. 

“Are there people who _are_ from around here?” Bellamy asks, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him before. 

“I would expect so,” Clarke says, “much like there are for every place in the world.”

That gets a grudging smile out of Bellamy. “So you’re not from around here either?”

“Nah, I moved here last year, figured I’d stay a couple of years, save on cost of living, figure out what’s next.”

“Yeah, same here,” he says. “I guess I just didn’t expect it to be so… you know what, I don’t even know how to finish that sentence.”

“No, I know what you mean,” Clarke says, sitting in an empty chair. “So what’s causing your particular despair at this moment in time?”

“I gave my students a pop quiz to see what kind of background knowledge I’m working with,” he says, rummaging around the pile of papers on his desk. “One of the papers came back like this.” He holds up a quiz sheet, and Clarke can see that for every question, the student has answered ‘because God said so’, not even bothering to vary the format to fit the wording of the question.

“Okay,” Clarke says, standing up again. “You’re going to come with me, and we’re going to go get a drink.” 

Bellamy stands up immediately, grabbing his jacket and abandoning the pile of despair-inducing pop quizzes. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”

Clarke takes him to Dropship.

“It’s not the best bar in town, but it is the only one,” she says, and then immediately groans. “Oh no, I sound like such a small-town stereotype. This is Stockholm syndrome.” She looks at him sheepishly. “No joke, though, it is the only game in town, so try not to get kicked out.”

“Does that happen often?” Bellamy asks, following her through the door. The frame is low, something he doesn’t quite realise in time. 

“People used to be shorter, I think,” Clarke says. “Sorry, I forgot to warn you.”

“Used to be?” he asks. “How long has there been a bar here?”

“Literally the entire duration of this town’s recorded history,” Clarke says. “We all have our priorities, I guess. And to answer your other question, people get kicked out every few months. They’re usually let back in, eventually, but it’s best not to risk it.”

“Noted,” he replies, looking around the room. It looks like a fairly average bar, to be honest, which is surprising. Based on some of the things he’s seen around town, a normal, unassuming bar is not really what he was expecting.

“It used to be weirder, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Clarke says, like she’s reading his mind. She takes him up to the bar and introduces him to Monty and Jasper, the owners.

“How did you know that’s what I was thinking?” he asks.

“It’s what most people think,” Monty offers. “But yeah, it used to be weirder. Jasper inherited the bar from his great-uncle when we were just out of high school, and he brought me on as a business partner. It got a little ridiculous for a while.” 

“They were eighteen and obsessed with space movies,” Clarke clarifies, sipping on the gin and tonic Jasper hands her. Bellamy hadn’t noticed her order it, but she seems pretty familiar with Monty and Jasper. Maybe she spends a lot of time here. Bellamy wouldn’t blame her; there doesn’t seem to be much else to do in Arcadia. 

“That explains the name,” he says mildly. He’s about to order the cheapest beer available, like he’s used to doing, then realises he can afford not to do that in a town like Arcadia and asks for something mid-list instead. It’s still cheaper than what he used to drink in Boston. 

“Yep,” Jasper agrees. “We made it look like a spaceship for a while, but pieces kept falling off and almost hitting customers. It didn’t seem worth it.”

“That’s fair enough,” Bellamy says, “but please tell me there are pictures, I really need some visual aids for this.”

“Nice try,” Clarke laughs. “It took me months to see those pictures, and I spent a lot of time here my first few months in town.” She leads him over to a booth in the back corner. 

Bellamy plans to have one drink, get to know Clarke a little, unwind from the past week, and head home for an early night. What actually happens is that Clarke talks him into a second drink, he buys the third round before she’s even finished her second drink, and suddenly they’re talking about shots. 

“It’s barely seven o’clock,” Bellamy says, baffled. “We came straight from work. Isn’t it way too early for shots?” 

Clarke looks at him. “Okay, first of all, time isn’t real, so there’s no such thing as too early.” 

“Uh,” Bellamy starts, but Clarke is still talking. 

“Also, I don’t know about you, but I’m not doing anything tomorrow, so why not?”

Bellamy can think of several reasons why not, but none of the really seem all that compelling. He doesn’t have anything planned for the next day either, and the more time he spends with Clarke, the more time he wants to spend with her. She’s easy to talk to, shares a lot of viewpoints he considers fundamentally important, and also happens to be incredibly attractive. In the back of his mind, he remembers Principal Kane mentioning something about no relationships between teachers, but how strictly can that kind of rule be enforced, anyway?

“Excellent points,” he says to Clarke. “Lead the way.” 

Bellamy hasn’t gotten drunk for a while, and it turns out his tolerance has taken a hit. Two shots in, he starts feeling like he needs to go outside, to get some space, though Clarke tells him the Friday night crowd has barely started to gather. She follows him outside with a bottle of water she must have gotten from Monty or Jasper. 

There’s something resembling a park on the other side of the street, and he sits down on the only swing left on the frame. 

“Hey,” Clarke says, leaning against one of the poles. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he says, a little embarrassed. “I’m not great with crowds, when I’m drinking. I just needed some air.”

Clarke offers him the water bottle and sits down, legs splayed in front of her. “That’s fair. And it’s not easy being the new guy in town, either.”

“Yeah, that too,” he agrees. “You’d know all about that, I guess.”

“Sure do,” she says. “So why did you choose to move here, anyway?”

“I just needed a change of scenery,” he says noncommittally. He’s not unwilling to get into it, exactly, but he’s not sure if Clarke is just making conversation or actually asking. 

“Bad breakup?” she asks. Guess she’s actually asking. 

“Not exactly,” he replies. “The details are more complicated than necessary, but I basically raised my sister for most of her life. She turned 18 in April and decided she needs some time to be alone. She’s traveling around for a while, off the grid, not even answering her phone. So I didn’t really feel like sticking around, alone, in the city I raised her in, without her.”

“I’m sorry,” Clarke says, “that sucks.” 

“It does,” he agrees, “but I do get why she’s doing it. And in the long run, even though it sucks, it’ll probably be good for both of us. We never really had to figure out how to be a person without each other before.”

“If it helps,” Clarke offers, “you’re doing a pretty good job so far, from what I can tell.”

He smiles gratefully. “Thanks. But also, you did see that pop quiz I showed you earlier, correct?”

“I did. But it’s only been a week. Give them a chance. Also, I feel like you should know this already, but just in case no one ever told you, your students acting out has nothing to do with how functional a person you are.” 

He has to laugh. “Hey, I never said anything about functionality.”

“It was implied,” she says, smirking. “Now, are you actually going to swing on that thing, or can I have a go?”

“Honestly, I’m surprised this swing is still a weight-bearing structure,” he says, but lets her have a go. She actually swings on it, walking back and letting go and throwing her head back, blonde hair trailing on the ground, her laugh bright and clear. 

Bellamy watches her for a while. Briefly, he thinks about leaving things as they are, not risking their budding friendship, but. If he’s honest with himself, being friends with her isn’t exactly what he wants.

So when she jumps off the swing, fumbling the landing a little and stumbling forward, almost falling over until he catches her, it seems like the perfect opening. He doesn’t think, just kisses her. 

For a moment, everything is perfect. Then she steps back, looking down.

“Oh,” he says, feeling foolish. “Sorry. Should I not have done that?”

Clarke looks pained. “No—I mean, yes—it’s just, Kane.”

“So that’s actually a real rule?” he asks.

“He was really strict about it when he told me last year,” she says, and he can hear genuine regret in her tone. “Bellamy. It’s not that I don’t want to.” 

There are a few twigs stuck in the ends of her hair, and he fights the urge to pick them out. “Yeah, okay,” he says, swallowing. “Okay. Sorry.”

All their easy camaraderie is gone now, and Clarke is shifting from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable. “I think I’m going to…” she says, trailing off.

“Yep,” he agrees. “Time to go home. To, uh. Our separate homes.” 

“See you Monday,” Clarke says, and turns to leave. Bellamy sits back on the swing and puts his head in his hands. He’s pretty sure Clarke is the best thing about his current life in Arcadia, and he might have just ruined it.

Clarke spends the entire weekend thinking about it. There isn’t much leeway, so her thoughts follow a circular pattern, like a train on a very small track. 

First she thinks about how good the kiss was, and how she liked spending time with Bellamy more than she’s enjoyed talking to anyone she’s met in this town so far. It’s not even a contest. Then she fantasises about going to his house, about breaking the rules and sneaking around behind Kane’s back. If he always kisses like that, it would be worth it based on that alone.

Then she remembers the look on Kane’s face when he told her his policy, the completely serious way in which he said teachers had been fired for breaking that rule before. She remembers how small the town is, how they’d never be able to go anywhere together, because there would always be a risk of someone seeing them. And she remembers that she doesn’t actually know where Bellamy lives. 

It’s a small track. But she keeps landing in the same place, which is why Monday morning finds her waiting for Bellamy outside the school with an extra coffee and blueberry muffin for him.

He looks surprised to see her, but only for a second. Clarke starts talking before he can. “Look, we both know this school year is going to be much better if we’re not awkwardly avoiding each other all the time, so I vote we put Friday behind us and move on.” She brandishes the coffee and muffin, almost aggressively, then notices that he’s holding a travel mug of what is probably also coffee. She starts to withdraw her offering, but Bellamy swipes it from her hand.

“Oh no you don’t,” he says, and for a split second she thinks he’s going to reject her olive branch. “You brought me coffee, it’s my coffee now. Double caffeination can only be a good thing at this school.” 

She laughs. “So, friends?”

He grins back. “Absolutely.”

And so it goes. Being friends with Bellamy is infinitely better than awkwardly avoiding him. But Clarke thought her attraction to him would fade over time if she ignored it, and instead it is doing the exact opposite. 

They fall into a routine quickly. They spend a lot of time at Bellamy’s house, working on lesson plans and grading, mostly because Bellamy’s kitchen is bigger and, as Bellamy was horrified to learn, Clarke isn’t exactly big on cooking. He develops something of a complex about feeding her. 

They’re both very tactile people, as it turns out, so there’s a lot of casual touching. Clarke leans into him when they’re watching Netflix, Bellamy puts his feet in her lap when they’re working, she plays with his hair, because it’s a stress-reliever for both of them. Consequently, Clarke spends a lot of time actively thinking about not kissing him. 

But it’s worth it, she thinks. Probably. 

In the middle of September, Bellamy goes to find Clarke in the art room, where he knows she’ll be setting up for her classes before school.

“I have an idea,” he says.

“Me too, actually,” she says. He thinks she’s mixing paint colours, but he’s never completely sure what he’s doing.

“Okay, so I spent way too long in a Wikipedia loop about climate change and the school strike for climate movement yesterday, and there’s a really big international strike next Friday. There are marches all over the world. There’s one in Philadelphia, I think we should go and take as many AHS kids as want to join us with us.”

Clarke stares at him, bewildered, for a moment. Then she speaks. “Yeah, uh, that was my exact idea as well.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, seriously. I saw Greta Thunberg on the Daily Show on someone’s Twitter feed and fell into probably the exact same Wikipedia loop.”

“Okay, cool, let’s do it.”

They start spreading the word immediately, and a surprising number of kids seem interested. Bellamy suspects a lot of them are only doing it to get out of school, but a lot of them are also genuinely engaged with the issues and concerned about the future of the planet, like any sane person would be, so he’s counting it as a win.

They talk to Kane about using school buses for transport to Philadelphia, and he’s not necessarily happy about the idea, but he’s also very conscious of not wanting to come off as a climate change denier, so he relents. Clarke gives kids supervised access to the art room after school if they want to make signs, which means Bellamy also starts hanging out in the art room after school. None of the students seem particularly surprised.

The morning of the strike, they gather in the parking lot, and Bellamy is surprised at how many students actually show up. Objectively, it’s not a large number, but it’s also not a large school, and he recognises a lot of familiar faces from his classes. Even a couple of the other teachers have shown up, which is a relief, since Bellamy wasn’t exactly eager to be solely responsible for this many minors in Philadelphia.

They pile into the buses, and he feels proud to be wearing the Ark High School hoodie Clarke managed to procure for him. She’s wearing a matching t-shirt, her hair is braided back, and she has a backpack full of what Bellamy can only assume is everything anyone might ever need at a protest. She tends to be prepared.

Bellamy has never actually been to a protest before, but it goes pretty much how he expected it would. The buses drop them close to where the march is set to begin and they fall in with the crowd. They’ve given all of the student’s his and Clarke’s phone numbers and strict instructions to stay with the march and wait for them at the end, in case they get separated. Bellamy tries to keep an eye on all of them, but there are a lot of kids, and a _lot_ of people. 

Clarke squeezes his arm. “Hey,” she says, voice low so the kids next to them can’t hear. “You okay? With the crowd?”

For a second, Bellamy wonders what she’s talking about, and then he remembers that first Friday outside Dropship. “Yeah. It’s not really a problem when I’m sober, honestly. But thanks.” 

She smiles at him, holding on to his arm for just a moment longer, then turns to count the students. 

The march is uneventful, mostly, in that nothing unexpected happens. They follow the crowd, repeating any chants that are taken up, students displaying the signs they made over the past week. 

Some of the kids come up to him and ask what protests and strikes are good for. He’s not prepared for the question, but he is a history teacher, so he tries his best to explain, talking about raising awareness, about showing governments what the people want and believe in, and about finding community in people with similar beliefs. He gives them examples from history, and they seem interested, much more so than they ever do in his classroom.

Suddenly, there’s jostling from the centre of the crowd. People start stumbling, and someone crashes into Clarke, hard enough to knock her down. Bellamy sees it happen in slow motion, grabbing at the air just a moment too late to catch her.

“You okay?” he asks, crouching down and trying to block the crowd so they don’t trample her.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, sitting up and brushing off her clothes. “I didn’t hit my head or anyth— oh.”

“What?” Bellamy asks, but then he sees the elbow she landed on, scraped up and covered in blood. “Oh.”

Some of the students have stopped to see what happened, but Bellamy shoos them off, telling them to stick with the other teachers and meet them at the end. He helps Clarke up, trying not to jostle her arm.

She huffs. “It’s not broken, you dork, just bleeding.”

“Sorry for trying to keep it not broken,” he says, and she laughs.

“I’m fine, I just need you to clean it out for me.” They weave their way through the crowd until they find a bench on the edge of the route.

“Me?” Bellamy asks. “I don’t —”

“Don’t worry, I have a first aid kit and I’ll tell you what to do. I’d do it myself, I just can’t reach my elbow properly.”

“Of course you have a first aid kit,” Bellamy says. 

“Sorry, did you expect me to be in charge of all those kids without one?” she asks, digging around in her backpack. 

“Fair enough,” he says, because it’s a good point and he probably should have thought about it.

“Usually I only need it for bandaids and Advil,” Clarke says, “but this works too.”

Bellamy could probably have figured it out on his own, but he’s still glad he has Clarke telling him how to get the gravel out, which disinfectant to use, and how to wrap her elbow in a way that doesn’t limit her movement or cut off circulation.

“How do you know all this?” he asks, taping down the last bit of bandaging. 

“What, first aid? I work in a school. In America. I figured taking a first aid course was probably a good idea, you know, just in case…”

“Yeah, that’s probably smart,” he says, and vows to look up first aid courses in the area.

Clarke puts the first aid kit away, and they stay on the bench for a while, sitting slightly too close to each other, watching the march pass by. 

All at once, Bellamy can’t take it any more. “You know what?” he says, turning to look at Clarke. “We’re at a protest about the fact that the planet is probably going to implode soon. Life is literally too short. I don’t give a shit about Kane and h—”

He can’t finish his sentence, because Clarke is kissing him. This time, she doesn’t pull back after a second.

When she eventually does, she leans her forehead against his. “Sorry, did I interrupt you?” she smirks. 

He grins back. “No, I was pretty much done.” He leans in to kiss her again. 

Bellamy isn’t sure if they stay there for minutes or hours, but at some point they notice that the crowd marching past them is thinning. “So we should probably still follow the march, right?” he asks.

Clarke gets up immediately, grabbing his hand to pull him up off the bench. “Absolutely, I have no idea how to get to the buses otherwise.” 

“I’m so impressed,” he says, and doesn’t let go of her hand.

Clarke slips her hand out of Bellamy’s when they reach the buses, giving him a regretful glance. One of the other teachers hurries over when she spots them. A student had told the rest of them what’s going on, except the student hadn’t actually known what was going on, so they’ve all been convinced Clarke’s arm is broken. Amazingly, all of the students have managed to find the meeting place, so as soon as everyone’s been reassured that Clarke is fine, they can start heading back home to Arcadia. 

Students all over the bus are chattering excitedly, invigorated by the protest and the feeling that they might have made a real difference. Clarke and Bellamy sit in the front, squeezed together on a bench that’s not really wide enough for two adults. She briefly debates resting her head on his shoulder, but rationalises that it’s something she would have done without hesitation last week or this morning and goes for it.

“We have to talk to Kane,” she says a few minutes later. “I don’t want to sneak around.”

“Okay,” he says, taking her hand. “We can go as soon as we get back to the school, he’ll probably still be in his office.”

Clarke is glad Bellamy didn’t try to argue with her, didn’t try to convince her that sneaking around might be sexy, or fun, or anything like that, but she’s still not excited about the prospect of telling Kane. They stick around the parking lot until the last of the kids have left or been picked up, wave goodbye to the other teachers, thank the bus drivers, until finally they can’t put it off any longer.

“Come on,” Bellamy says. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can go to Dropship. Monty and Jasper told me they’ll give us free drinks if we, uh, figure our shit out.”

Clarke laughs. “We might need them.”

Kane is still in his office, and looks up when they enter. Before he can say anything, Clarke blurts out, “I want to date Bellamy.” Then she looks at Bellamy. “I, uh, assume that’s what—”

“I thought I was being clear,” he laughs, but he also takes her hand again, so it balances out.

Kane, for his part, looks confused. “Okay, so… why are you here?”

“Because of your no dating other teachers rule?” Clarke frowns.

Kane still looks confused, and then something dawns in his expression. “Oh. Well. The thing about that rule is—”

“Is what?” Clarke asks, dangerously calm.

“I made it up,” Kane admits, holding up his hands so Clarke wouldn’t interrupt him. “It was for your own good, Clarke! The old wood shop teacher used to hit on all the female teachers, so we put the rule in place to keep him in line.”

“Didn’t he move somewhere at the end of last year?” Clarke asks. “Why did you tell Bellamy it was still a rule?”

“I guess I got used to repeating it,” Kane shrugs. “I’m sorry for any inconvenience I caused you two, but I can assure you, I don’t have a problem with this.”

“Inconvenience,” Clarke snorts. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Kane, we’ll be leaving now.”

“By all means,” Kane says, looking amused. “Have a lovely weekend.”

“We will,” Clarke says, just a little too aggressively, and Bellamy laughs.

They leave Kane’s office, and Bellamy leans in to kiss her, quick and sweet. “Come on, let’s go to Dropship.”

But Clarke shakes her head. “Bellamy,” she says, meeting his gaze. “Take me home.” 

She doesn’t have to ask him twice. 

**Author's Note:**

> i saw a tweet last week that said "not to make the climate change march about like teens skipping school on a beautiful fall day feeling empowered, but it is such that i am sure someone is going to have their first kiss today" (https://twitter.com/rachel_kaly/status/1175119508626989056) and i couldn't stop thinking about it
> 
> it went in kind of a different direction because i've also been rewatching parks and rec and i just really like the we're not allowed to date but we're really into each other dynamic


End file.
